


Like mother like son

by SharkEnthusiast



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxious Dean Winchester, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Normal Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18516868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkEnthusiast/pseuds/SharkEnthusiast
Summary: Dean is 15 and a little too old for his age when he grabs Sammy and runs.Where Mary leaves instead of dies.I SAID THIS WAS DISCONTINUED ITS NOT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT THIS TIME LOVES





	1. Dean

**Author's Note:**

> Making this up as I go.  
> Oh boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay the reason why they have an Electra is cause one, I want john to have really bad taste, and two, Mary stole the Impala when she left so john had to buy a new car

Dean is 4 when his mother, blonde hair wild, mascara streaked and lipstick smeared, grabs the car keys with shaky hands, kisses him on the cheek, and walks out the door.  
He waits by the window for her to come home. Even when Dad comes stumbling in smelling like sweat and tears, even when Sammy cries and even when it's well past 2 am and his eyelids are drooping.  
He waits for her to walk back through the door, hair fixed and makeup done up nice and pretty, and smile at him. Sit with him as he eats dinner and tells him that it's well past his bedtime.  
She does not come back.  
Days pass. Weeks. Dad moves them out of the house in a rush and moves them into a dingy apartment in the seedy part of town. Dean learns how to cook dinner and ignore dads yelling and put Sammy to sleep. He learns the way of walking on the edges of the hallways to keep the floorboards from creaking, how to sneak out, how to get girls and how to avoid paying when all his friends invite him out for milkshakes.  
He raises Sammy and restocks all the painkillers for dad when he's hungover. Lets dad hit him around a couple of times because _"if that's what he needs, it's fine_ ."  
  
He's 14 and he's elbow deep in dishwater when it hits him. _He could leave_ . Bring Sam along with him and go and find mom. Steal Dad's butt ugly 1959 Electra and hightail the fuck out of Lawrence.  
He finishes the dishes, wipes his hands on his jeans, and goes to tuck sam in. (Just to piss Sam off. And just to check if he's safe, too.)  
The next afternoon, when dad asks for his wage from working at the chick-fil-a, Dean pockets half of it and gives the rest to him.

When he's ready, he's taking Sammy and getting out of there.

 

He waits a year. And then a half of one. He's almost 16, and he's saved up what money he can. From buying groceries, and Dad's insisting Dean give him his  weekly wage, there's not really all that much. But it's enough. He's ready.

He holds his breath. Waits for an excuse to leave. One night, after Dad catches him with the money he's been saving and roughs dean up a little more than usual, he wakes Sam with shaking hands.

“Come on.” He says, ignoring Sam's groaning.

“We're leaving. Back a bag and be ready in 5.”

He sneaks into Dad's room and steals his money back and meets Sam back in the living room. He can tell Sams doing that examining thing of his, with his big brown eyes staring into Deans and occasionally focussing on Deans split lip.

 

He cannot stop his hands from shaking.

 

Dean grabs the car keys from their place by the door, his own duffle, and ushers Sam into the car. As an afterthought, he grabs Dad's phone too.

Just to see if he kept in contact with Mom or anything.

He joins Sam in the car, twisting the keys in the ignition, and listening to the rattle of the engine.

Dean prays the car won't break down.

“Dean?” Sam asks from the passenger seat. Dean can feel the kids eyes on him. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.” Dean says with a sigh. Flicks his eyes toward his brother to see if he has any reaction.

He doesn't.

 

Dean is 15 when he leaves, hands shaking, voice wobbly, hair a mess. He wonders if Dad will miss them.

 

Like mother like son.

 


	2. Sam

Dean is not talking, and so Sam doesn’t either.

He bites back the comment about school and watches as Dean fumbles with the keys. Watches and he turns on the car and pulls out of the driveway. Watches Dean’s hands on the wheel and watches as tears roll down his brothers face and onto Dad’s phone in his lap.

He still doesn’t talk. 

He curls up against the window, shuts his eyes, and listens to the rattle of the engine until he falls asleep.

 

When he wakes up it’s light out.

“Dean?” He whispers.

Dean looks worse in the light. His eyes are sunken and the bruising around his jaw has gotten worse. 

“Good,” Dean says with a smile that looks like it hurts. “You're awake.”

Sam rubs his eyes.

“Yeah.” 

Something pops inside the car and Dean flinches. 

Dean tosses Dad’s phone to Sam. “Can you look through here for a  William Harvelle?” Sam nods.

“Yeah. Who’s he?” 

“One of dad’s old marine friends. I met him once and he seemed like a nice guy, and I figure he might not mind if we crash with him for a second.” 

Sam chews on his lip and decides it’s best not to talk back.

It takes him a little less than a minute to find who Dean's talking about. Seriously, Dad's contact list is literally five people. 

"W. Harvelle. Think that's him?" he asks Dean, setting the phone back into his lap. Dean scoffs. 

"How many Harvelles can there be? Try it." 

"What?" Sam asks looking at Dean.

"Call it, dude. Ask if it's him and see if we can stay with him. Not that hard." 

Sam’s fingers fumble over the buttons. He holds the phone to his head. 

“Hello?” The voice on the other line says, and Sam audibly swallows. “Yeah. Uh. Is William Harvelle there?” Before they can answer, Dean, snatches the phone from Sam’s hands. 

“Hey, this is Dean Winchester, John Winchester's son. Is William Harvelle there?” Deans jaw clenches at whatever the other person says. 

“Yes, ma'am. We are very sorry for your loss.” 

Sam wants to laugh.

“Oh yeah.” Dean says, and Sam can see his ears ridden in embarrassment. “Sam, my brother, and I are looking for our mom. We don't have enough money for more than 2 weeks at a motel, and we think we'll be looking for longer than that. Any chance you got room at your house for us?”

Sam pales when Dean mentions Mom. 

Of course this is his plan. Ditch one parent and then find the other. 

He doesn't remember Mom. He was only a baby when she left. But Dean does. pretty clearly, too. And she's the reason Dad is the way he is. He can feel his gut tighten in anger. 

_ This is all her fault.  _

He shakes his hair out of his eyes and refocuses on Dean's conversation.

“Okay. 1053 Cedar Road. Got it.” He hangs up, the button making an audible click.

Dean turns to him with the first genuine grin Sam has seen on him in a while.

“Got us a place to stay.” Dean says.

“Are we really going to try and find Mom?” Sam blurts out before he can stop himself. 

Dean doesn't look at him, just focuses on the road in front of him.

“I don't know, Sam. Yeah, I guess so.” 

 

They don't talk for the rest of the drive. 

 


	3. Ellen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to write Ellen but its chill

It had been a long time since Ellen had even thought of the Winchesters.

They had been friends, once. Good ones. The ones you don’t want to let go of. John, all sly smiles and quirked eyebrows. Mary with her blond hair and loud laugh. 

They would swing by, toting the boys along with them a couple times a year. Stay for a drink, show off the boys, then hop back in that muscle car of theirs and tear off. 

Then Mary left. 

She hasn’t heard from her or John since. 

 

Ellen pulls a stool up to the bar and sits down with some silly romance novel she’d  _ never  _ be caught with and waits. 

And in between chapters, she thinks. 

Tries to pair the voices on the phone with the shy little boy and the cooing baby.

She’s imagined things have changed. 

They wouldn’t have called if things hadn’t.

Her gut twists when she realizes that they’ve called from Johns phone, and she tries not to think about what that might mean. John might of pushed his wife out of the house, but he was Bill’s friend. Was hers to. And dammit to hell, she can use all the friends she's got.

After Bills death, especially.

Ellen sighs and shuts her book. It wasn’t like she was actually reading it anyway. She turns the chair back over and sets it on the counter. Brushing off her jeans, she sighs, surveying the bar. She takes in the dust, the grimy tables, the lukewarm beer bottles on the table from last night that no one bothered to clean up. 

It's dirty and grimy and gross but it's  _ hers.  _

Ellen's very own piece of Bill. 

Someone knocks on the door. She shakes her head, and strides over to the door, fixing a smile on her face that she hopes isn't too painful. Taking a long, slow deep breath, she opens the door. 

She hopes Jo won't be mad. 


	4. Jo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo's reaction to a couple of weird kids in her house

When Jo comes home from school, there are two boys at the bar. 

 

They’re dirty. They have tired eyes. Like they’ve been around a lifetime even though they look around her own age. 

 

Jo’s mom is nowhere in sight.

“Mom?” She calls, eyeing the boys. The older looking one stands up.

“Uh. Hey there. I’m Dean.” He starts to walk her direction, but Jo steps back. There are two dirty, beaten boys in the Roadhouse, and she’d be stupid to not remember the things her dad taught her. 

“Stay where you are.” She whisper yells, hoping her voice doesn’t wobble as much as she feels like it should.

Dean eyes her and smiles.

“Mrs. Harvelle?” He calls. Softly. Not to startle anyone.

Ellen comes out from the back room, catches Jo, fists up, aimed toward Dean, and begins to laugh. 

Jo does not.

Neither does Dean.

Not even the kid behind him. 

“Jo, this is Sam and Dean Winchester. They’ll be staying with us for a while.” Jo wants to protest. Grumble and growl and give Dean the stink eye. But her mom has had too many sad days recently, and it's a relief to see her smile. 

Jo does not remember more of her father than calloused hands, a faint smile, and the instructions “take care of your mother for me”. She would like to see him one last time and show him how good of a job she's doing. She does her chores and stays out of trouble and  _ only fought Benny Richards because he made fun of her for not finishing the math minute. _

 

She looks at Dean's bruises and Sam's puppy dog eyes and decides that if these kids make her mom happy, it's okay.

 

So she does not scowl at Dean and Sam more than absolutely necessary and does not ask where they will be sleeping even though she really wants to. 

“Okay.” Is all she says, and plops her bag down onto one of the tables and starts on her homework.

 

They sleep in Jo's room. Ellen seems to trust them enough to let Sam and Dean anywhere near her, so Jo thinks they're probably not psychos. It's barely 9 when Sam and Dean go back into her room to sleep, and even though Jo's only 11, she's mastered the art of staying up with Ellen as she's working the bar at the roadhouse. So she does. She watches as Ellen takes out lukewarm beers from the broken mini fridge and watches as guys talk her up and smiles because she wants to be just like her mom. And when the customers have stopped coming, either having left or passes out,Jo, tentative asks her mother about the Winchesters.

“What happened to them?” Jo joins her mother in polishing the nice whiskey glasses, the ones that they save for the real fancy ones. (The ones that come in suits, looking worn and drawn out and asking about victims in the area. FBI or whatever). 

Ellen sighs and looks Jo in they eye.

“They're looking for their mother.” 

“Why?” Ellen laughs at Jo's question, but it doesn't sound like she actually finds it funny. 

“I don't know, entirely.” 

 

 

That night, when Jo tucks herself into bed at well past 11, she looks at the sleeping Winchester boys and is suddenly very glad she has her mom.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not the best at dialogue and it always feels akward to me so I hope this isn't too painful to read


	5. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!

Dean wakes up to Sam shaking him awake. 

It strikes him right there just how dirty they are because Sam smells like dirt and sweat and Dean knows he can only smell worse.

He feels like hell warmed over.

“Dean.” Sam says, shaking him harder. He sits up and scowls.

He can already feel a headache coming on. 

Shit.

According to the clock on Jo's dresser it’s 12:49 in the afternoon. He rolls off the air mattress into a standing position and looks around. 

Jo's curtains are drawn tight, but still the sun is shining through the blue fabric. Her books are gone which must mean Jo is off to school. 

Right. It’s a Wednesday. He and Sam should be at school too, technically. 

Dean wonders what his father will tell the school back in Lawrence. The knot in his stomach reforms, sleep having momentarily making it go away.  

“You slept really late.” Sam tells Dean, standing up. Dean nods.

There is a lump in his throat and he feels like he should apologize for bringing Sam into this. He rubs his eyes, hoping that that will wake him up.

 

It doesn’t. 

“Shit.” He says it aloud this time, and then opens the door.

Sam follows him. 

(Seriously, no joke, the kid is like a dog. The puppy dog eyes, the floppy hair that kinda resemble dog ears.) (Vaguely.) (Plus there is always the fact that Sam follows Dean around obediently which just adds to the resemblance.) 

Ellen is sitting at the bar surrounded with cereal boxes and Dean can feel Sammy brighten beside him when he sees the lucky charms. 

“So” Dean says when they sit down. “I was thinking last night that we could go through Dads phone. You know, see if he like, still has her number, or something that could lead us to her.” Sam stops eating his lucky charms and looks at Dean.

“There are literally 7 contacts on there, Dean. You really think Dad will have kept in contact with Moms friends or something?" Sam says. Dean shrugs and sighs. 

"He probably didn't, knowing Dad. And at this point, this is kind of a wild goose chase. But we gotta try, right Sammy?"

Dean is tired. His whole body aches and he knows he slept way too much but he could totally go for 15 more hours. He doesn’t really want to deal with this but he has to find Mom so they can live with her and go to school and forget their father completely. He pulls Dads phone from his pocket and turns it on. 

“Okay, does Barty Moore sound like a good candidate?”

  
  


It takes a total of 2 minutes to find out that Barty Moore was actually their old babysitter from when Mary had just left and Dad actually felt bad about leaving them alone. Most importantly, he didn’t know where Mary was, plus he called Dean “Spawn of the devil” and Sam “an angelic baby” which was pretty funny as it is the total opposite. (Totally).

Sam insists on calling the rest of the people because “he’s bored” and Dean apparently sounds like a half dead zombie with murderous tendencies on the phone right now.

Dean isn’t entirely sure what that means, but Sam is usually right, so he lets him take over. 

He sits slumped against the bar and shuts his eyes, praying that this takes Sam long enough to give Dean at least 5 minutes of sleep. God, it’s definitely unhealthy to want to sleep this much. He tunes out Sam asking people “Hey, my name is Sam Winchester, and me and my brother Dean are looking for our mother Mary Winchester or Mary Campbell. Do you have any idea where she might be?” He could go for a nice slice of pie right about now. 

It hasn’t even been 15 minutes when Sam yells Deans name. 

“What, Sam.” He groans, squinting at his brother. Who has a manic grin on his face. 

“I found something, Dean! This lady, uh, Missouri Moseley, knows where Mom went! They were friends and Dad kept her number cause she knew where Mom went but never told him!”

Dean sits bold upright, stumbling out of his perch on the bar stool to join sam at one of the tables. 

“Put her on speaker, Sammy.” He says. His hands might start shaking again because this is  _ it they know where Mom is and they can move in with her and never see their father again _ . 

“Hello, Mrs. Moseley. This is, uh, Sam’s brother Dean and-” The voice on the phone cuts him off with a tut.

“I know who you are, boy. Your brother was over here talking non-stop ‘bout you. And Missouri, please. I reckon you want to know where your mother went off to?” Dean nods enthusiastically, then realizes she can’t see him. 

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “I mean. Yes Ma’am. I mean Missouri. Sorry.”

The laugh that comes from the other line is long and slow. Sam raises an eyebrow at Dean from the seat beside him and imitates him under his breath. 

Dean grins but still smacks him over the head. 

“Okay, boys. Might want to get a pen.”

Sam clicks his open. 

“Got one already.”

“Okay, boys. Mary lives in a sweet little blue house in Horton Kansas, which is about 1 and a half hours from Lawrence. Her address is at 1024 Euclid Avenue. We stayed in touch after she left Lawrence and I went and visited her a couple months ago, so I don’t think she’s moved or anything.” 

Sam scribbles down the address on a  napkin and grins at Dean. 

“Oh man.” He says, and Deans not sure its to Missouri or him. “Thanks so much!” Missouri chuckles.

“No problem. Good luck, boys. Don’t do anything stupid.” 

The line goes dead.

Sam slides the phone shut and turns to Dean.

“Oh my god.” Dean whispers. “We found her.” 

  
  



	6. Sam

__

Sam is not entirely sure how he should feel.

He knows he should feel like Dean, achy and tired but still giddy, fingers tapping furiously on his thighs. 

He doesn’t. He feels like he doesn’t know how to feel.

Sam did not know his mother. 

If it wasn’t for the photo in Dean’s wallet, he wouldn’t know how she looked. (Blond hair, blue eyes. Painfully pretty. Painfully happy.) (Sam still wonders, even though Dean has told him time and time again that “ _ She loved us, it was Dad.”,  _ if Mom left because she couldn't handle an excitable toddler and an overly needy baby.)

Ellen offers to drive them to Horton, and even though Dean protests and makes excuses, she does because her and Sam both know that if Dean drove this way, they would end up in a ditch half a mile from the roadhouse. (Dean’s hands haven’t been steady recently. The dark rings under his eyes look like smudges of drawing charcoal, and he looks dead on his feet.) 

They don’t bother talking, and even when Sam itches for Dean to play some of his obnoxious, loud music, he doesn’t bother touching the power button for the stereo. 

They are 3 hours into the drive and Sam is starting to understand what Dean must feel like. 

He feels like his world is ending. Exploding. His father beat Dean and Sam knew, but he never bothered to do anything about it. (Because Dean had told him not to. Because Dean said he could handle it.) His brother left and took Sam with him and somehow the midnight fueled plan has turned into less of a wild goose chase because  _ they found their mother _ . 

Sam doesn’t know whether to be incredibly grateful or incredibly bitter. 

Their mother  _ left them _ . And Sam might be a little excited somewhere in the pit of his stomach, but right now, all he can think is that Mary Winchester, their dear, dear mother, will hurt Dean past repair, and Sam is terrified of that. Scared shitless that this will screw Dean up so bad that he’ll be in an even worse state than he is now. 

Sam wants his brother back. The one with the bad jokes, obnoxious grin, sarcastic remarks. 

This version is not anything close to it. This version is sad and drawn and tired and hungry. (For something that neither him or Sam know what it is.) 

He wants Dean to go back to normal and be happy and go lucky.

(Part of Sam is terrified that Dean will never be that way again and that makes Sams stomach curl into knots.)

God, this drive is taking  _ forever. _

Dean is passed out in the backseat, sleeping as peacefully as he can in a piece-of-crap car. Ellen is completely silent, focussing on the road, mouth tight, and eyebrows pulled down. 

Sam wishes he was older than 11 so him and Ellen would get along a little better. 

“So.” He says. Careful. “How old is Jo?” 

Ellen glances at Sam for a second and then flits her eyes back to the asfalt. 

“11. A year below you, right?”

Sam nods. 

“I mean technically, but I'm still 11 cause I have a late birthday.” He says.

Dean makes a muffled noise from the backseat and Sam watches Ellen check how he's doing in the mirror. 

Ellen doesn't bother to continue the conversation and so Sam waits.

Watches cars and trees and corn streak by, mixing together.

Watches as Ellen turns into the driveway of a blue two story off the state highway and begins to shake Dean awake.

Watches as Dean's hands start to shake again and his eyes get that nervous, scared, wide eyed look.

Watches as he approaches the door with practiced caution, ad if somethings going to pop out at any moment. 

Sam watches as Dean wipes his hands on his pants and then raised his fist to the door.

Watches as he knocks.

Sam holds his breath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehhe I promise something will actually happen next chapter but it might take me forever to write


	7. Ellen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m very sorry for the wait I lost all motivation for this story but! It’s back!!

They are sitting at Mary’s light yellow breakfast table, twiddling their thumbs, and Ellen suddenly has a very familiar feeling of deja vu. 

She doesn’t know where or when it’s from but the colors in Mary’s light blue two story off of the highway spark  _ something,  _ and Ellen wishes she knew what.

The air smells like fabric softener and it’s that moment that Ellen can feel that Dean is seconds away from exploding. A ticking time bomb.

They’re silent. Dean is playing with the mug of tea Mary out in front of him, not bothering to take a sip. 

Sam is tense beside her, and Ellen can only imagine what this is like for him.

“Why’d you leave us?” 

Sam's voice is quiet.

Mary hears anyway. 

Ellen thinks that Sam is doing this because Dean doesn’t look like he can talk right now. (He’s staring at her. Ellen only now remembers how similar him and Mary always looked.) 

Ellen can hear Mary take a breath in. 

“He was hurting me, Sam.” She says, as if this is for Sam, not Dean. 

It is all too quiet. 

“Fuck!” Dean says all of the sudden, hair wild from raking his hands through it. He pushes his chair back with a scrape  and stands up.

Wild. She wonders if John left his boys a little unhinged after all. 

“You fucking left us there?” 

Ellen tries to not look at anything but the cardinal outside at the bird feeder she can see through the window.

She feels as if she is intruding.

“You fucking left us there knowing that he, no doubt, would hurt us too?” 

Mary starts to cry. 

Dean is not crying. Nowhere near it. His hands aren’t shaking like before and he fills his entire body to the brim with anger. 

“He loved you. I- I thought it was different and.”

She lets out a shaky, desperate sob. 

“I hate you sometimes.” Dean says.

“Dean stop.” Sam says. His voice sounds flat. Like this is a common thing he has to do. Talking his brother down. 

Dean is still and so is Mary and Sam and Ellen.

The sound of Mary’s crying feels suffocating.

Dean walks out of the door quickly, but not before he punches Mary’s wall.

Ellen tries not to flinch.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah also sorry it’s short I just moved so stuff is hectic


	8. Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry

Dean has experience in being angry. 

Plenty of it.

He’s gotten angry at Sam countless times and he’s always angry at Dad and that one time Jenny Rothgar called him a whore made him pretty upset too.

 

Nothing compared to this. 

He feels hot and feverish and his heart beats in his ears and his scalp hurts from where he yanked on his hair.

_ “I thought it was different” _

It echoes in his head. Her words and his heartbeat and his blood.

His fist throbs and his knuckles are scraped and torn and bloody and it feels good because his mother, the one thing that was keeping him going, is just as bad as his father.

He sits in the car. His fingers itch for the keys in the ignition, itch to be on the wheel.

He wants to get out of here but he can’t because  _ his mother is inside that house and she left him for a part time job at a diner and a book club and a pretty blue two story.  _

He punches the horn on the car until the neighbors peer out their windows and until Sam emerges from the house with a blank look on his face.

“Look, Dean.” Sam says. He sounds tired and weathered and old, and that hurts Dean for some reason.

“She’s in there, and she’s crying, and she’s  _ sorry _ . At least go in there to say goodbye. We can leave after that if you want to.”

Dean wishes he was a better brother.

Fuck, his hand hurts.

He prays the door open and it squeaks. 

He hates that. He needs to get a new car. 

He looks at the house and at Sam and at the little house plant on the front stoop.

He wants to be mad. He wants to punch things and scream until it all hurts and he wants Mary to know that it’s her fucking fault he’s the disaster that he is.

He can’t get her out of his head though. The hey Jude and the soup and the crustless sandwiches and the fact that  _ she is in their right now and she is crying and he cannot blame the fact that he is a disaster on her because it is his fault too.  _

He feels guilty.

Dean is very tired of that feeling. 

He unclenches his hands and shoved them into his pockets and walks up the front stairs and opens the door. 

“Hey mom?” He asks her. 

“Can I talk to you alone for a little bit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason for the I’m sorry is because I have the worlds worst case of writers block and it has been so difficult to write anything recently. ANYTHING. I’m very sorry for the defiantly out of character chapter and how short it is. Anyway! I hoped you liked it anyway. It might be a while before I update because again, writers block, put in promising you and myself that I will finish this fic.


	9. Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ha bitches you thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah I did pull through losers. Just for you. Because I felt terrible. But whatever. This is a monstrosity and makes no sense but I did not re read it once so whatever that’s expected.

Mary lights a cigarette. 

Dean hates cigarettes. He hates his life. He hates Horton Kansas and he hates his brain and he hates that he’s angry. He hates that right now, with her blond hair and red rimmed eyes and cigarettes, he hates his mom too. 

“Well.” Her voice is clipped around the edges. Cold and far away. 

Scared. 

“Just wanted to say sorry.” Dean says, trying to match his voice with hers. He does not use the relaxed drawl he uses on librarians and teachers and people he needs to love him. He matches her. Clipped vowels and consonants. Right down to the point.

Mary looks at him. Takes a slight inhale from the cigarette and then blows it back out.

Dean wonders if they match.

If his hair was lighter, maybe.

“Don’t be sorry.” Mary says, slow. “You had a point.” 

“No I didn’t. Stop trying to make me feel better. It was rude and selfish and totally an asshole move.” His voice has a little heat. Sometimes things make him angry that shouldn’t.

Mary is looking at Dean again. He doesn’t know how to read the expression on her face.

“When you were little I left you with your dad a lot.” 

Her voice surprises Dean. I seems to surprise her, too.

“He’d take you to the park to play ball while I’d go out and get groceries or clean the house.” She takes another drag of her cigarette.

“Your dad wasn’t that bad to me. Not really. He had a temper, but I know he loved me.” 

Something spikes in deans gut. Anger and jealousy all wrapped into one. “The reason why I left you was because I couldn’t deal with having kids to take care of. I didn’t leave because of your father.”

Dean's hands are shaking again. He wants to scream. 

She left because of him.

_ She left because of  _ him. 

“Why are you telling me this.” His voice is low. Growled out. Scraped. 

“I’m telling you this because I know that if I had stayed there, Dean, I would have been just as bad as your father.”

“What are you  _ talking  _ about.”

She’s not looking at him anymore.

“I knew that if I had stayed there, Dean, I would have watched while your father tossed you around. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stop him. I knew that I wouldn’t be a good mother. That scared me. I didn’t know what to do with that, Dean.”

“So you left us.”

Mary might be crying. He’s not sure.

“I had to.”

“Okay.” 

 

Okay.

 

Dean has Ellen drive them back to the road house. Has her set up the guest room for him and Sam. Has her enroll them in school, and has her help Sam with his homework when Dean is working. 

On his 18 birthday, Mary gives him the Impala. On his 19 he and Sam move into a dingy apartment downtown, and when he’s 20 he’s the manager of the garage he works at and has a steady relationship with a pretty girl named Marlene.

He never sees his father again.

He got out. He got out and learned how to be human and alive and not so scared. He got out and grew into something not half bad and not some monster like his father.

He is doing okay. The instinct in his stomach to run isn’t there anymore.

 

Like mother like son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh that was properly terrible please actually read this ik I said I was done but I wasn’t so uhm. I hope you see this


End file.
